


Gold Dust

by Ravelen



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Background Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Background Maryse Lightwood/Luke Garroway (if you squint), Bonding, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor (attempted), Introspection, Loss, Love, Pain, chosen family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 17:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17882459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravelen/pseuds/Ravelen
Summary: Magnus has lost his magic. Maryse may understand what he’s going through better than anyone else.In which there is empathy, bonding, croissants, something vaguely resembling coffee, and hope for the future.





	Gold Dust

**Author's Note:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING:** Some fairly graphic description of pain and feeling as if being cut/mention of blades (Maryse talking about her de-runing) that I don't want to surprise anyone with who might find it difficult to read.
> 
> Thanks so much to the lovely [la_muerta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_muerta/pseuds/la_muerta) for looking this over not once but twice (it’ll come as no surprise that I have fiddled with it a bit more since so all mistakes are definitely my own), holding my hand every time I freaked out and answering inane questions about banners first thing in the morning.
> 
> Thanks also to the amazing [Cryptid Bane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impetus/pseuds/CryptidBane) for organising the [3b Countdown Calendar](https://twitter.com/3BCountdown), for the beautiful banner and for generally being an awesome human being.

  


Magnus answers the door wearing pajamas and a scowl. His face is free of makeup. His hair looks like it's only 'up' because it was accidentally molded that way in his sleep.

"Maryse?" he asks, looking around her like he expects someone else to have accompanied her.

Maryse supposes her visit is a little unexpected, and not just in the sense that she didn't ask if he minded her coming around. She's never been here alone before. She has never been alone with him at all.

"Magnus!" she says, injecting warmth. "I brought breakfast." She lifts the paper bag in her hand and gives it a little shake. "I'm led to believe they're your favorite."

Magnus' eyes narrow but he does accept the bag. "I suppose Alec told you I'm in need of company, lest I go full hermit?" he mutters, unfurling the paper where it is twisted closed at the top.

Maryse watches him as he peers inside. The slightest hint of a smile breaks through the clouds on his face. "They _are_ my favorite," he confirms, then looks down at himself. "I should probably get dressed."

Maryse eyes the vintage silk, little storks flying through lush blooms, all embroidered by hand, no doubt. "I don't have formal wear that fancy," she assures him. "Don't go to any trouble for me."

~

The fall sun is already warming the polished wood floors of Magnus' grand loft, where it has slipped past them as it’s risen. Maryse slips off her shoes and presses her feet to a square of light as she waits for him to return with plates and coffee. Belatedly, she realizes it will take him longer than usual and follows him to the kitchen to help.

"I don't think I've ever seen you out of your heels," Magnus remarks, as she joins him at the counter.

“I’ve been on my feet all morning,” she explains. “I hope you don’t mind?” 

She’s been at the Institute since dawn, helping Isabelle and Alec. Everyone is stretched to their limits right now, so it’s the least she can do, maybe the _only_ thing, and she so hates feeling useless.

“I want you to feel comfortable here,” Magnus replies, and a little bit of tension releases in Maryse’s chest.

She looks up at him. Maryse isn't a short woman by any means, but Magnus is really quite tall. He's always cut an imposing figure and enjoyed it. Today, his shoulders have curled into himself as he fights with the coffee pot, and he seems smaller, somehow. A pang of something hits her. It’s not pity, she wouldn't dare. But sympathy, empathy, definitely. It's been something like two weeks since he lost his magic, or rather gave it away to release Jace.

That, of course, is why Maryse has come to see him. She waited through the first days, when he was slightly manic, and seemed focused only on Alec healing from his injuries. Then through the following week where Alec snapped at her every day, ‘He’s _fine’_ , though she’s sure neither of them believed it. She doesn’t want to wait any longer, though.

“I’m sorry to come by unannounced,” she tells him. “I know you might prefer to be left alone but I wanted to see how you were doing and I to-”

“Maryse, I’m very glad you’re here.”

Her flow interrupted she stops and takes a breath, touched by his words. 

Magnus pulls down plates and cups, digs in a drawer for silver ware. 

"Most importantly, I wanted thank you in person," Maryse says gently, her throat suddenly aching, "for saving my boys." 

When he says nothing, his hand paused in the motion of moving cups along the counter, she goes on, "It's okay to hate it, though. The price you paid."

He looks at her then. "Is it?"

"Yes, absolutely." She blows out a breath, emotion forcing a pause. "It's not the same, I know, but I think I understand what you are going through, just a little."

"Of course you do," Magnus tells her, one hand landing warm on her wrist. "And it _is_ the same. We both lost our magic."

She hums, head tilting to the side. "Yours is...was...more."

Magnus sniffs. "Maybe."

“And lost to a selfless gesture. Mine was taken from me in punishment. It’s not the same.”

“Selfless?” Magnus asks, dropping his gaze. “No.”

Maryse frowns, but he has moved away to lay out plates, his back rather deliberately turned, and so she won’t push, not yet.

They busy themselves plating the almond croissants she bought from the little bakery on Magnus' block, shuffling around each other in the kitchen, all that warm light spilling in from high windows and painting the counter. The coffee is ready then, the trickle from filter to jug slowing to a drip, drip.

Maryse wasn’t sure if she’d be welcome here. Oh, Magnus was the perfect host when she came to dinner, but Alec was with them, and she’s more aware than ever that there is nothing Magnus won’t do for her son. She’s sure that could easily include putting on a show of politeness for his benefit. She and Magnus know their shared history, far better than anything Alec may think he understands. Magnus has _seen_ her at her worst, where Alec has only heard tell of it.

But Magnus turns to her, tray of coffees in hand, and smiles. It’s a small smile, but genuine.

"Shall we?" Maryse asks, lifting the plate of treats.

She doesn't know why Magnus wants to eat outside on the balcony - there is quite a chill in the air and he had to run to his bedroom for a warm robe - until he says, "I've always loved eating al fresco. I used to use a spell to keep a bubble of warm air from the loft trapped here but, well..."

Then she understands. He doesn't want to be beaten by this. "It's lovely out here," she assures him, ignoring the prickle of goose bumps on her arms as she lifts her coffee, steam skidding off the top of it in the breeze. She has tucked her feet up beneath her on the bench she sits on, away from the cold stone of the floor.

"How have you been?" she asks, after her first sip. It's a little bitter and she can't completely hide the face she makes.

Magnus doesn't quite laugh, it's more like a semi-amused huff, and says, "I'm getting better at the coffee, believe it or not."

"It's lovely," she assures him.

"You looked just like Alec tasting a martini for the first time." He demonstrates a little frown, pulls his lips back over his teeth.

Maryse laughs softly. "Well, it's hot at least?"

"Hot will do," he agrees, inclining his head.

“So, you never learned, to make coffee?” she asks, bemused.

“Why would I?” Magnus asks. “Have you ever learned to…I don’t know, open a bottle of wine with your toes?”

Maryse laughs. “No?”

“Because you have hands. Same thing.”

Maryse nods, wonders what else he’s going to have to learn to do without magic. Everything, she supposes.

"So," she asks again, because she has a feeling if she doesn't persist he'll never say, "how _are_ you?"

Magnus looks down into his coffee. "I’m fine,” he says.

Maryse raises an eyebrow and fixes him with a disbelieving look. It’s one that has worked on her children for years. She waits for him to look up. 

When he does, he rolls his eyes and huffs. “Okay, okay. Truth is I’m up and down. Today is not a good day, but that's not to say they're all bad. I keep busy. I even got up early and went to the farmer's market on Alec’s day off." He sits forward and looks at her intently. "Do _you_ know how many oranges it takes to squeeze a full glass of juice?"

"Two or three?"

He points at her triumphantly. "See! That’s what I thought too. Well, no. It takes many. We're doomed. We'll never survive as mundanes."

Maryse laughs.

"Can I be honest with you?" Magnus asks.

She shrugs. "Please."

"I’m going crazy not talking about any of this."

Off her frown he qualifies, "Alec and I talk, obviously. But I worry. He’s a protector, a warrior fighting everyone's battles. He blames himself for this, erroneously, of course. I'm not sure what he might do, but I have a bad feeling it would be both heroic and stupid in equal measure."

Maryse thinks of Alec the last few days. How he's stalked the halls of the Institute like he's just daring someone to speak out of line, or break a rule, so he has an excuse to unleash on them. He's like a pressure cooker. "I know what you mean," she says.

"So, I haven't talked about it." Magnus pulls his robe a little tighter around himself and shrugs. "Not really."

“Okay,” Maryse says, sitting back a little more comfortably, “so talk.”

Magnus opens and closes his mouth several times before he finally finds the words. "At first it was the small things that caught me out. I used to be able to summon almost anything with just a snap of my fingers, as natural as any reflex. I keep thinking I still can."

Maryse nods.

"All the little things I used magic for take too long. Food. Clothes. Keeping this place clean. Finding a book. Do you know how vast my library is? It’s impossible. And as for putting on makeup, or painting my nails. How do people find the time for these things?”

He sighs. "But none of that matters really.” He pauses, looking out over the balcony to the sky a moment. “Warlocks, our magic isn’t just inside of us. It connects us. We can feel each other, feel the ley lines thrumming beneath our feet. I can’t anymore. It’s like calling out and no one answering. I feel..." He puts down his coffee and wraps his hands around his upper arms.

"Wrong?" she says.

"Yes. Like I’m missing a part of me. Like I had this other, sixth sense and it’s gone.”

Maryse nods, all too familiar with the feeling. "Did it hurt?" she asks, unsure why she even wants to know.

Magnus snorts. "No. Is it weird I almost wish it had? It doesn’t feel real. I blacked out in Edom and woke up here like nothing had happened. Once it was done, once Jace was free, it was gone. All of it. Just like that. A hole, here." He presses a finger to his stomach.

Maryse can't hold Magnus' gaze when he looks at her, her eyes skipping over sun-tipped skyscrapers, tracing a bird in flight, anything but. Maybe she asked about the pain because it’s something she hasn't shared with anyone and the words have been trying to crawl their way out of her throat at every opportunity. Maybe she hoped he’d ask the same of her.

He doesn’t disappoint. "And you? Did it hurt? I believe it must have done. Alec says no. I can't work out whether he actually believes you or he just wants to."

"Yes," Maryse says, releasing a great breath with the words, like a dam breaking. Her eyes sting. "It was excruciating. Like hot knives flaying."

Magnus winces, but she finds herself laughing, of all things, even as one tear falls. It’s so good to talk about this. 

"After, they put you in this little room to recover. Stone walls. Just a bed and a stand with a basin of water, cold, of course,” she begins.

"I lay there all night, wide awake. The slightest movement was agony. They don’t literally cut them out, of course, but it feels that way. With every rune they remove you feel less like yourself, weaker, less able to cope with the pain. Your skin feels raw where they were. The shock makes you shiver. You sweat, and it stings.”

She shakes her head. “When the dawn broke, the light crept up the walls, and there on the ceiling was a painting of the angels and the first Shadowhunters. Look, they were saying. Look what you've betrayed. Look what you've lost. I think that was the hardest thing of all."

Maryse gives herself a little shake. "Please don't tell Alec?" she asks. "It was everything I deserved and it's over now. Done. I’ve had time to come to terms with it and, if anything, I'm glad. I never would have suspected it, but there’s a certain freedom that comes with losing one's runes."

"I'm happy for you," Magnus says. "That you feel that way."

"But you don't feel that way, and you won't. I understand. It’s so different for you, Magnus."

Magnus nods slowly. “I miss it like…well, so much it aches.” He looks away.

"I miss the buzz under my skin," she agrees. "It's always there, you know, even if you haven't activated a rune in days. The potential. It's like static in the background."

Magnus nods, his eyes slipping closed. "Like electricity," he murmurs. "Just waiting for you to plug in."

Maryse thinks of all the things that she's struggled with and settles on the most galling. "The worst thing was feeling defenceless," she says. "Weak. I _hated_ it."

Magnus' eyes snap open. "Yes."

"I know, rationally, that I am still physically strong. But when you are used to calling on a higher strength, all that power? I felt so much less."

"Past tense?" Magnus asks, with a little frown, as if just noticing her word choice.

"It has become a little easier to bear. You find other ways. I've even been training. Seeing what this all-human body can do. Maybe you could train with Alec?"

"He'd wipe the floor with me!" Magnus says, but he smiles his first true smile since she arrived. "Still, it could be fun." His eyebrows bob.

She groans. "Enough of that, thank you."

Magnus sighs. “But, I don’t know. All I’ve ever known is magic. Without it what am I?”

“I think you are capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for, Magnus. It’s only when we are pushed to our limits, that we really discover what we are made of.”

He seems to ponder this. Maryse gives him a moment of quiet, tries her awful coffee again. Going a little cold has definitely not improved the taste.

"So, where do you train?" Magnus eventually asks, and she’s not sure if it’s genuine interest or he’s making polite conversation now. He’s probably wondering how long he’ll have to entertain her before she’ll go, leave him alone.

"At home. At a gym. I am _much_ stronger than many of the younger women there. At the Institute, too, though I'm really only welcome there if one of my children is around. I'm tolerated at best, even then. I think I remind everyone how far they could fall."

Magnus looks thoughtful. "Hmm.”

Maryse can’t imagine he finds it easy to be at the Institute now, either. Now that he doesn’t have his magic as a defence, does he feel vulnerable, as she has? She always admired how he held himself whenever he was there, even back in those days when she felt uncomfortable in _his_ presence. He always owned the space he took up, the ground he walked on. He seemed impervious to the stares of the less progressive Shadowhunters, those that believed Downworlders shouldn’t walk their hallowed halls. She doesn’t like to think that she was once one of them. She has learned so much, in such a short space of time, about what is _really_ important. Her son has taught her. This man before her has taught her too.

Maryse risks another sip of her coffee. It is positively cold now. She wonders if Magnus can cook. If not, he and Alec are going to be surviving on take-out. She opens her mouth to ask but he beats her to it.

“And, where do you live now?"

Maryse smiles, can't help how happy it makes her to think of her little space. The tiny one-bed is her bolt hole from the world. "I have an apartment," she says. "It's small but perfectly formed."

"Can you afford that? You know I own a lot of property, I could-"

She holds up a hand. "I'm fine. I have…savings. I would not feel comfortable taking anything from you. Not with my history."

He nods. He gets it. Years have passed since Maryse first laid eyes on Magnus Bane, but she remembers with chilling clarity what he interrupted that night. She’ll never be free from the guilt. It’s not like looking back on the minor misdemeanors of youth with nothing but a wince, she only wishes that were the case. She can’t make good all the bad she’s done. The fact that Magnus knew the Maryse of old and can bear to look at her, let alone have her in his home, says much more about the kind of man he is, than the woman she is struggling to become.

She puts down her cup, giving up the pretence of enjoying the coffee just as she gives up the pretence of skirting around the issue of her past. "I'm trying to repair the damage, give back. But I know I can never truly make amends. Whatever good I do now, it won’t bring anyone back. It's my burden to carry the terrible things I did to my grave. To own my mistakes."

Magnus nods. “How unlike a Shadowhunter to be so self-aware,” he says, but there is warmth in his eyes.

“Not a Shadowhunter,” Maryse reminds him. “Not anymore.”

"I made a mistake," Magnus says, suddenly. He picks at the corner of his pastry, little pieces flaking to the plate. "Lilith was here. She tricked me but far too easily. I’d lost my position, was clinging to helping my clients as some way to prove I still ‘had it’, thinking I was clever and powerful. I was a fool. Jace would have never..." His breath hitches. "And I'd have never..."

"Magnus," Maryse says softly, laying a hand gently over his, stilling his fidgeting fingers. "You are not to blame for this. Lilith already had her claws into Jace. We all make mistakes."

Magnus is unconvinced, she can see.

"Lilith needed to be stopped," she adds. "The City – the entire world – was at risk.”

Magnus gives her a weary look. “I didn’t do it to save the world,” he tells her. “I did it for far more selfish reasons.”

Maryse nods slowly. “Alec may not have survived losing Jace."

“He was either going to kill him or be killed trying. What choice did I have?”

Not for the first time, Maryse is intensely grateful that Magnus Bane loves her son. Because, the truth is, he could have chosen to do nothing. Just like he could have stayed at home, when she backed Alec into a corner, forcing him to marry that woman. But love makes you do incredible, stupid things sometimes, and thank the Angel for that.

Alec was always such a serious child, that’s what Maryse has always told herself. She is self-aware enough these days, shockingly, to admit to the lie. Still the delusion helps when she thinks about the loveless life she almost succeeded in consigning him to, merely to right her own wrongs. It helps when she thinks about everything she did as a part of the Circle and how she’d tried, after, to lead by example, devote her life to the Clave and raise her children to do the same. It helps whenever she watches him these days, like she did when she came to dinner, sees him smiling and laughing over something Magnus has said or done, and feels that familiar sting of guilt.

She’s had to face the fact that she has been wrong all of Alec’s life. He wasn’t a naturally serious boy, but she took that raven-haired toddler that peeped into his baby sister’s crib and smiled like she was a gift from Raziel himself, and she pulled and pushed and pressed him into that mold until he had no choice but to be serious-minded. The eldest son, the heir to the great Lightwood name, the protector. In her mind’s eye he always stood awkwardly, hands folded behind his back, shoulders straight. His mouth a tight line.

Now she knows that this happy, warm and loving man was dying to bust out of her stoic son for all those years.

What a fool Magnus must believe her to be. He saw her son for what he really was right away. She has thanked him, but for what? For doing so easily, so naturally, what she should have done all Alec’s life? For showing Alec that there is another way to live. Helping him choose himself, his own happiness, over family duty. Making sure he knows that he’s loved. Never mind a thanks, she owes this man the world.

“Thank you,” she says again, anyway, though the simple words are utterly inadequate.

Magnus looks away, clearly uncomfortable, and shivers. “Let’s go inside,” he offers. “This is ridiculous.” He tucks his robe tight around him and stands. “Bring the food and leave the coffee-like substance.”

Maryse chuckles, getting to her feet and lifting her plate. “Okay.”

Inside, it’s deliciously warm compared to the balcony. Maryse curls into one of Magnus’ many comfortable chairs, balancing her plate on the arm of it. He settles opposite her.

“What are your plans for today?” she asks.

Magnus looks down at himself. “I suppose I should shower at some point,” he says and rolls his eyes.

Maryse understands. She still has days like this, weeks after her de-runing, when getting dressed is the height of achievement and leaves her exhausted, never mind getting out and seeing people. “I went days without seeing another living soul,” she tells him. “Sometimes it’s all too much.”

Magnus lifts his plate, then puts it back down. “I’ll be okay,” he says, stiffly. She’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.

“Of course you will,” she agrees. “You’re Magnus Bane.”

The corner of his mouth lifts and he looks her in the eye. “Whoever that is anymore.” He shakes his head and changes the subject. “How’s Luke?”

Maryse sighs, thinks about the wall in Luke’s motel room that has been taken over by photos, and scribbled notes, and coloured lines of pen and string, connecting it all like a haphazard spider’s web. “He’s still sure Clary’s out there somewhere but, I don’t know.” She shakes her head. Luke has been a constant support for her since her de-runing and the least she can do is return the favour, but she isn’t sure how. She’s never seen him so on edge, so feral, for lack of a better word.

“If she is,” Magnus says, “we’ll find her. It’s what we do.”

Maryse smiles, reassured. “You’ve all become quite the team,” she agrees.

Magnus runs a thumbnail along the arm of this chair. “I’m not sure what my role in it is, anymore.”

Maryse sits forward. “Magnus, you are far more than just your magic. Who else knows all that you do, has your years of experience? Who else cares like you do, about everyone? Please don’t sell yourself short.”

Magnus reaches for his croissant, breaks a piece off but puts it back down without eating any of it. "Does that mean that I have to get used to this new me, this version of me that has no magic?" he asks her. "Because I don't particularly want to."

“Yes,” Maryse tells him, because there is no kindness in a lie. “But give yourself time. You’re grieving, and I believe denial is one of the stages.”

Magnus huffs. “Warlocks grieve differently. When you have all of eternity these things take longer. So I look forward to remaining in denial for at least the next decade."

It's on the tip of Maryse's tongue to say, _’But you're not a warlock anymore,’_ but she doesn’t. There's believing honesty is for the best and then there's _that._ Maryse likes to think that, even in those years when she was her _other self_ , one she feels divorced from now - stiff, scared, bound partly by duty but mainly by the terror that her past was always one step from catching up by her - she was never purposefully cruel. Stupidly, blindly, accidentally, maybe. But never on purpose. 

Magnus sniffs. “I used to take it for granted, having all that time. It becomes meaningless after a while. You can only measure the passing of it by the people you know, the memories you collect. Now this life, this point in time, will be my last memory.

"I'm not scared of dying, exactly. It's not that. But, I've watched the sun rise over and over. I've seen great cities rise from the smallest dirt village. I've feasted with Kings. I've been present at the birth of invention. I've just always assumed I'd see the far-flung future. It’s…strange, to know I won’t."

“Yes.”

"But it's not all bad," Magnus relents. "My life may be coming to an untimely end..."

Maryse laughs. "Magnus, you look all of twenty-five. Even if you begin ageing now you have years and years-" She stops herself, shaking her head. "I'm sorry that's...that's such a trite thing to say. I can't imagine what it must be to be immortal, to have lived for centuries only to have that taken away. I suppose it must be a little like being given months to live, from my perspective."

Magnus holds her gaze for a long moment, then lets out a gusty sigh. “My goodness we have gotten morbid,” he says. He shrugs. "However long I get, I get to spend it with Alexander, since apparently he’s mad enough to stick with me." He's smiling now, even if his eyes are suspiciously wet, and Maryse can't help but echo it.

“I’m so very glad you have each other, Magnus.”

He dips his head, bashful. He really does look so young. “As am I.”

"Come," she says. "We haven't eaten anything yet." She cuts a piece of her croissant, chewing thoughtfully. The pastry is flaky and buttery and there is a sweet almond center. "Delicious," she tells him. "I approve of your favorites."

Magnus huffs a short laugh. "Most of my favorites are your favorites too."

Maryse loves that. She sits forward and grins. "So they are."

They talk of lighter things then, as much as they can, until Maryse thinks maybe it’s time to go. They carry everything in to the kitchen and wash up, Maryse retrieving their coffee cups from the balcony.

"Let me call you an Uber,” Magnus says suddenly, as they put away their plates, cleaned and dried. “They’re so handy, there’s an app.”

Maryse laughs. “I know. These mundanes do have _some_ good ideas.”

Magnus grimaces. "Perhaps the greatest indignity of this whole affair is being left at the mercy of public transportation. I might have to buy a car again. People say you don't need one in the city, but those people haven't known the convenience of portal travel."

Maryse is taken aback. "Magnus, you drive? Since when?”

He shrugs. "Since the early twentieth century?” He sighs. “I may be a little rusty and of course I don’t actually have a licence.” He rolls his eyes. “Life as a mundane is needlessly complicated.”

Maryse shakes her head. “What made you learn in the first place?”

“Oh, I was just like everyone else at the turn of the century, fascinated with these incredible new machines. By the twenties and thirties, they were all the rage. Everybody who was anybody had a car. I was a respected businessman, you know, I needed to look the part. I also spent a great deal of time living among humans, back then. They tend not to like it if you conjure a great swirling portal in front of them."

"And were you really?" she asks, amused. “A respected businessman?”

Magnus laughs. "No. I ran a Speakeasy. If anything, I was a criminal. Prohibition. Gin running. Flapper girls. Those were the days." He sighs wistfully.

Maryse laughs. “Please tell me more about that someday. It sounds thrilling.”

Magnus looks surprised a moment. “Maybe I will. Or maybe I should write them down for when I'm gone. The thrilling adventures of Magnus Bane.” He looks suddenly sad and Maryse moves to press a hand to his arm, but then he smiles. “I guess there is one great adventure left for me, Maryse. An ordinary life, lived day by day…with an extraordinary person.”

Maryse hugs him then. Quite frankly she’s been dying to do so ever since she arrived.

Magnus is stiff in her arms a moment, but relaxes, his arms wrapping around her. “Thank you,” he says. “You should feel free to drop by anytime.”

She nods, then pulls away to squeeze his hand. “I will.”

“So how _will_ you get home? I’m serious about the Uber.”

Maryse shakes her head fondly. “I’ll be fine. I like the subway," she tells him. "It makes me feel human."

"It's all the pee," Magnus says, sagely.

Maryse laughs. "Probably. But I'll be fine. I may do some window shopping."

"You really are embracing mundanity."

Maryse laughs. "What will you do with the rest of your day?"

"I think I'll start by getting out of these pajamas," he says, and she grins.

"I approve. But, you know, I've learned a lot from my children, Magnus. They've taught me that our emotions do not make us weak, far from it, and that it's okay to take a breath, sometimes. If you need time to come to terms, no one will begrudge you that.”

She smiles. "Isabelle and I have been spending evenings together, when we can. Making up for the times when we should have done that more when she was a young girl." She chuckles. "Do you know how good you can feel after a face mask and several gin and tonics?"

Magnus looks up, his eyes suddenly full of mischief. "Do you have anywhere you need to be?" he asks, tapping a finger to his chin.

~

An hour and several mimosas later, Maryse is floating in a cucumber-scented haze. Magnus may no longer have his magic, but he has a fully stocked drinks cabinet and a bathroom bursting with beauty products.

They are sitting back side-by-side on the couch, their feet propped up, and true to her earlier request, Magnus has been regaling her with outrageous tales from his youth. When they lapse into an easy quiet, Maryse’s thoughts drift like petals on a warm breeze. She’s a poetic drunk, apparently. Each one comes to the forefront of her mind for a brief moment; glimpses of the faces of those she loves, flashes of memories, hopes for the future. Her life has changed irrevocably, in such a short space of time. 

She rolls her head and looks at Magnus. His face mask is lavender in color. He looks hilarious and his eyes are smiling, even if he can’t move his mouth, so she supposes she looks pretty funny too. 

"I've been to many places and seen many things," he says, speaking oddly through lips he’s attempting to keep still, "but I never could have predicted this exact moment right now."

Maryse can’t help but smile, and her face mask begins to crack and pinch at her skin. "Ow."

"A pamper session with _Maryse Lightwood_. All the fantastical things I've done, and this is the most outrageous," he decides, waving a hand between them.

Maryse belly-laughs, her stomach fizzing with warmth. Her face mask cracks open and begins dropping everywhere. "Oh, oh stop. Oh no!" she cries, pressing her hands to her cheeks.

Magnus looks over at her and cracks up too, both literally and figuratively. They're a mess.

It is to this scene that Alec returns, opening the front door and hanging up his jacket before he walks through to the lounge and takes in the pair of them. "What the hell?"

"Alec! My lovely boy!" Maryse calls, holding one hand in the air in greeting.

Alec blinks. "Mom, are you _drunk?"_

Magnus shakes his head vigorously, pieces of his face mask flinging everywhere. "We are _completely_ sober!"

"You too?" Alec complains, hands on hips. "It's not even one!"

Maryse giggles, then claps a hand over her mouth.

Magnus points in her direction. "It’s her fault!"

~

"I need to sober up,” Maryse says, a little later, face now freshly scrubbed. Her skin feels amazing.

“You don’t look a day over thirty-seven,” Magnus tells her, which is weirdly specific, but he is still a quite a bit tipsy. He frowns. "Ordinarily I'd have a spell for sobriety. Ooh, I know, more coffee." He grins, and heads for the kitchen.

Alec's face flashes with fear a moment. He jogs after him. "I'll make it!"

Maryse chuckles and follows them.

She loves her boys, Alec _and_ Magnus. She's not sure when that happened, but it’s true. Her life is very different to the one she thought she’d live, but it’s full of love and light, and she’s so grateful for that. 

She knows Magnus will find his way. They both will.

In the kitchen she finds them squabbling over the coffee pot and pushes between them, with a smile. “Let me help.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading - kudos and comments are ♥
> 
> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ravelens) if you want to drop by and say hi :)


End file.
